


Between Breath and Love, I Choose Him

by techieturnover



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Choking, Like just a LITTLE bit, M/M, PWP, and then by gum i became the change i wanted to see in the world, i rly just wanted a nice fic where james gets choked, literally those are the onlytags that apply this is a porn fic, stupid poetry mentions, there are also feelings involved bc its james, uhhh soft Dom Thomas?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22474051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/techieturnover/pseuds/techieturnover
Summary: “What does this do to you?”“What?”“Every time I run my thumb just so -” and Thomas’ fingers press into his throat, the thumb pressing at his pulse in a way that makes James’ breath leave him. “What does that feel like to you, that you react like that?”
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton
Comments: 17
Kudos: 150





	Between Breath and Love, I Choose Him

“What does this do to you?” 

“What?” 

“Every time I run my thumb just so -” and Thomas’ fingers press into his throat, the thumb pressing at his pulse in a way that makes James’ breath leave him. “What does that feel like to you, that you react like that?”

James feels his face heat but he doesn’t dare tell Thomas what the pressure of a hand on his throat makes him want. He is ashamed to, and that shame only doubles itself, but he is determined to keep the monsters that live in his heart from sullying this what he and Thomas share.

“Sensitive I suppose,” James answers as he leans in to distract him with another kiss. Unfortunately, Thomas has never in his life let himself be distracted from an argument.

“Hm, that’s not it. This spot here -” he leans in to the side of James’ neck, biting gently just below his ear. “This is sensitive,” he says as James moans, cock throbbing at the sensation. Thomas presses his hand in tighter at the base of James’ throat pressing up just in the center. James’ head tilts back of its own accord, leaning forward to press into the contact as his vision momentarily goes white and his knees go weak. “That. Is something entirely different.” 

The hand at his throat releases but he can still feel the pressure when he swallows. He tries to focus, to refute his desire, but when he focuses on Thomas’ face the hunger in the other man’s eyes undoes him completely. A flash of hatred boils through him as he leans into Thomas’ hand again, shifting just so that the palm of the other man’s hand rests inside the hollow at his throat. His own hands bring Thomas’ lips to press against his own - he doesn’t want to be able to look at Thomas. Instead he focuses on the heat of their mouths pressed together, the way Thomas’ hand tightens around his neck again and the coil of desire it sends spiraling through his body. He’s running out of air with the press of Thomas’ hand and the press of his lips, but when James opens his mouth to breathe and immediately finds Thomas’ tongue sliding hot and wet into his mouth he doesn’t much care. When Thomas backs him up until his legs hit the seat by the window he lets himself sink down. Thomas slides the hand that had been at his throat to stroke his hair as James takes a deep breath, trying to find his equilibrium. 

He can’t allow this. He needs to get control of himself before he allows whatever depravity is hiding in this desire he feels to be free. He doesn’t ever want Thomas to be privy to this side of him. But oh _God -_

Thomas kneels in front of him and rests the palm not in James’ hair on his thigh.

“Do you want this to go any further?” 

James wants to say yes. He wants to beg Thomas to close his hand around James’ throat again, to hold him down and fuck him to within an inch of his life. His heart pounds in his chest at the thought of it. Of the light headedness that comes with shortness of breath combining with the mind numbing pleasure of Thomas fucking him until he cums hard enough to lose conciousness. He wants that and he would do _anything_ to - 

“No.” The answer is weak even to his own ears. Thomas’ eyes search his. James knows that what he finds there doesn’t match his words. He is still struggling to breath and with each breath he draws in he feels the ghost of the pressure from Thomas’ hand. Every exhale is shaky with the desire he feels - desire that must be evident in every line of his body. 

Thomas narrows his eyes, the same questioning look on his face that he gets when he’s trying to solve a particularly hard puzzle. “Do you not want this, or do you not want _me_ to see you wanting this, in particular?” 

James looks away and he knows that’s all the answer Thomas needs. Gentle fingers pull his chin to look back up. “Answer me, James.” 

“It’s not right -”

“What is not right, James? Between you and I, what is it you think is the right way that we should draw pleasure from each other? The wrong one?” 

James heart beats traitorously with the whispers of his shame. Sometimes it is so easy to cast them aside and other times - times like now - they wrap around him until he cannot hear anything else. 

Thomas is quiet, steadfast as he waits for James to formulate an answer. 

“I can’t ask you to hurt me for my own pleasure. That sort of thing is - twisted. Foul. Only monsters hurt what they love and I will not ask you to ... debase yourself for me.” 

“Are you hurt?” 

“What?” 

“Just now, did I hurt you beyond what you wanted?” 

“Well, no, but - “

“And it felt good?”

 _Yes._ “...it did.” 

“Then who are we harming, if we both consent, and both of us want this?” 

“But you -”

“It doesn’t make you a monster to want these things with a consenting partner. I want to make you feel good. I want you to enjoy your own pleasure in whatever form it takes.” Thomas lifts an eyebrow, grinning. “And I’m not exactly suffering through it, if you want to know.” James can’t help but mirror the expression no matter the turmoil he feels within. When Thomas brings their faces together and his expression grows serious again, so does James’.

“When it’s just the two of us, you’re safe. I won’t ever think less of you because of something you want, and I will tell you if I am uncomfortable doing something you ask. Can you extend me the same?”

He doesn’t even have to think about it. 

“Of course.” 

Thomas leans in to kiss him, tender enough that his heart clenches in his chest.

“Come on, then.” He pulls James up and toward the bed. James loses the arguments on his tongue in the soft, deep kisses. Thomas’ hands pull at his clothes as they move towards the bed. He’s just gotten Thomas’ own vest loose when he finds himself lowered down, the weight of Thomas on top of him and the touch of skin on skin pulling a moan from his throat. They fumble the rest of their clothing off. James’ boots coming off as he pulls Thomas’ shirt over his head, Thomas’ pants and trousers following as Thomas himself undoes the belt and clasps of James’ pants, hands slipping back to grab at the warm skin of James’ ass. The reach of those long fingers to just inside his thighs pulls another groan from James and he grouses against Thomas’ shoulder. 

“Help me get these off, _then_ you can get your hands on me.”

“I rather think I like this order of operations better,” Thomas argues, slipping a finger to rub at James’ hole. “God you’re so warm...” James’ hips move of their own accord, back arching to try and get more of that touch - but Thomas draws his hands down and pulls James’ trousers with them, laughing again at the irritated huff the removal of contact draws from James. James placates himself with running his hands over Thomas’ body. Thomas' skin is hot to the touch, smooth and with just enough muscle underneath to offer resistance when he presses his fingers in. Thomas bites into one of his thighs and his fingers tighten on broad shoulders. 

Hands join Thomas’ mouth in worshipping James’ thighs and he can’t help the sounds that leave his throat in echo of the pleased ones from Thomas. 

“Have I ever told you,” Thomas murmurs against his skin, “how beautiful you are?” 

He has. James distinctly remembers the first time they’d done this and the inordinate amount of time Thomas had spent admiring him. He feels his skin heat again and thinks himself ridiculous - given how close Thomas’ mouth is to his cock - that it’s the thought of Thomas’ loving praise of his thighs that affects him the most. 

“Once or twice,” he manages, pulling at one of Thomas’ hands until he can get two of his long fingers into his mouth. He’s hard, strung tight with anticipation but the fervent ‘fuck’ that drops from Thomas as James coats his fingers with spit makes him laugh. He opens his eyes when he feels Thomas shifting up and he’s greeted with the vision of Thomas, skin flushed and gaze fixed on James’ mouth as he slides his fingers in and out, his other hand pulling gently at his cock. James moans, not just because the motion invites the thought of what is coming, but also because Thomas’ expression is absolutely ravenous and being the subject of it spreads another wave of _want_ through him. 

He arches up and spreads his legs further as Thomas leans in, pushing his tongue into James’ mouth beside his fingers. The sensation rips another desperate moan from him as Thomas removes his fingers to trail them down James’ body. They’re not slick enough to really prepare him but the sharp sting is quickly replaced by pleasure as Thomas thoroughly stretches him open.

And James loves Thomas. He does. He _really_ does. But the man has an irritating habit of forgetting the details, and James is fairly certain they’re at the point where Thomas should really be fucking him already. He reaches into the drawer at the side of the bed for oil that lives there, only fumbling once when Thomas’ finger finds his prostate. A sharp tug at Thomas’ hair gets his attention and James raises a brow when their eyes meet, holding the jar in front of his lover in what he hopes is more than a suggestion.

Thomas has the good sense to look embarrassed as he takes the jar and James sighs when the cool slide of the oil covered fingers back inside him sends shivers through him. He catches Thomas’ eyes as the motion quickens, fingers moving faster and further apart as Thomas watches him. James feels both completely exposed and protected all at once - it’s a feeling he covets with Thomas, the feeling of being absolutely seen and treasured for the seeing. Thomas slicks his cock and pulls his fingers free, eyes never leaving James’ as he pushes inside him, until James has to break the gaze as his head falls back from the sheer overload of sensation. 

Thomas leans in to kiss him as he works himself inside James’ body with short, measured thrusts. When Thomas pulls back from the kiss his palm rests back against James’ throat and a shudder of anticipation runs through James’ entire body.

“Focus, love. I’ve never done this before so I need you to let me know if I hurt you.” Thomas is still close, just inches away. James knows he needs to speak but the hand at his throat is taking away the ability to formulate a response, even though there’s no pressure behind it yet. Instead he takes hold of Thomas’ wrist, squeezing lightly.

“Too much.” He digs a nail in slightly, just until he sees the movement register for Thomas. “Let go.” He lets his hand drop, reaching above his head to stretch out further, opening himself up completely. He wants so badly to surrender to Thomas. “Please.” 

“You only need to ask.” The words are a mere whisper before Thomas kisses him again and he starts to move his hips, the motion slow and slick but deep. Thomas pulls back and when James opens his eyes to find himself being watched.

He has half a second to recognize the look of absolute adoration on the other man’s face before he closes the distance again, hips moving and fingers pressing into the sides of James’ throat all at the same time. It feels like the world is both narrowing and expanding; the rhythm of Thomas’ cock sliding inside him draws a weak moan from his throat, blocked by the hand there. What sound makes it out is immediately swallowed by Thomas’ lips and his body feels weightless, completely separate from himself. 

“You’re truly a sight...spread out like this, wanting me.” Thomas’ voice is rough, wet and the sound of it nearly undoes him.

He’s already close. He’s been strung too tightly for too long and he aches for release even as he never wants this feeling to go away. Thomas’ hand leaves his throat to instead press down on his chest, holding him down and constricting his breath in an entirely different way. His other hand wraps around James cock and the rush of blood in his ears answers the rush of sensation as Thomas’ thumb circles the head and he feels the first waves of pleasure roll through his body.

“More,” the word falls from his mouth as soon as he can gasp it. “ More, _fuck._ ” Thomas shifts, hitching one of James’ legs further up and it’s the change in angle that -

James feels the wave of his orgasm crest and he’s sent over the edge, shuddering and crying out and completely wrecked as every muscle in his body convulses. 

Thomas’ hips stutter and James is aware only peripherally of the other man’s orgasm as he comes down, body heaving and still over sensitive to every movement, every brush of his back against the sheets, every small movement of Thomas inside him sending another aftershock of overwrung pleasure through him. Thomas collapses on top of him, warm and sweaty and _heavenly_. James wraps his arms around the other man, both of them gasping as Thomas runs a hand through his hair and tucks his face into James’ collarbone. He feels a bit like he’s floating, blood sluggishly making its way back through his body and the warmth and weight of Thomas pulling him towards sleep. He’s disturbed when Thomas sits up, carefully pulling out and cleaning them both with one of the many handkerchiefs he’s also started keeping in the drawer by the bed. When he’s done he presses soft kisses into the skin of James’ neck and James hums with contentment. 

“How do you feel?” The question convinces James to open his eyes despite how heavy his body feels with exhaustion and near-sleep. 

“Good. Better than good.” His reply is mumbled, but James feels a soft huff of laughter against his skin in answer. “You?”

“I...in deep delight am chiefly drowned.” 

James groans, both from amusement and incredulity. “How can you stand to quote Barnfield at a time like this?”

“Is there any better time than sharing a freshly messed bed with the man I love?” 

The words hit him like they do every time. Not just that Thomas loves him, but the utter delight he takes in doing so. James has never, in his entire life, met someone who takes as much _delight_ in love as Thomas does. He lets the words hang between them as Thomas brushes their foreheads together again. Thomas knows, somehow. He always knows. 

James shifts, settling into the sheets as Thomas pulls the coverings over the two of them. The sheets are wet with their sweat, spilled semen, and the excess oil and he can’t help but smile. He nudges at Thomas’ nose with his own, shifting so that Thomas also feels the damp patch beneath them.

“...then must the love be great, twixt thee and me...” Thomas’ laughter in response warms him through.

“Oh go to sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> The poem quoted at the end is If Music and Sweet Poetry Agree by Richard Barnfield, who was a dope gay poet in the early 1600s. 
> 
> Join me on tumblr for more gay shit! @im-the-punk-who


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